On entering Portugal, the few and ill-disciplined remnants of the Spanish regiments fell back upon the mountain country, General Friere prudently adopting a defensive system, rather venture a combat, for which he knew well that his army was utterly unprepared. This determination of the Spanish general was unpopular. Unpractised in the field, without discipline or formation, and blind to the severe lessons taught them by their recent defeats, these raw levies were ardent for action, and clamorous to meet the enemy again. A number of irregulars, who had lately joined, excited this popular delusion--and they insisted that, contrary to his own judgment, that their general should fight. Friere prudently and steadily refused; and his mutinous soldiers--if such a mob deserve the name--broke into his quarters, treated him with every ignominy, and finally murdered himself and most of his staff. They immediately elected a British _employé_, Baron Eben, who commanded a Lusitanian brigade, as their commander; and, he, unable to control their fancy for fighting, brought them fairly into action at Carvalho de Este. As might have been expected from such ruffians, they were completely routed. Like Falstaff, the Baron had brought his “scoundrels where they were well peppered,”--and many fell victims to their stupidity and presumption, in supposing for a moment, that they could encounter Soult’s veteran troops with the slightest prospect of success. Oporto was next besieged--and though the city was garrisoned by twenty thousand men, having two hundred guns mounted on the works, it was stormed on the third day. The usual scenes of military license, which the usage of war permits after a successful assault, were here fearfully enacted. Soult, however, checked the turbulence of the soldiery after the first burst of fury had subsided; and on the next day, order was generally restored. Meanwhile the Spanish armies were undergoing a series of disasters-- and Cuesta was driven from the southern frontier, after suffering a signal defeat. Victor following up his success, crossed the Tagus at Almaraz, and threw himself on the Spanish army. The French charge was stoutly withstood--the cavalry driven back--and, in return, Victor’s left attacked, and forced for nearly two miles to retire. But it rallied--the Spanish horse, which had been pursuing, suddenly gave way; a panic seized the infantry--the whole broke--threw down their arms,--and endeavoured to save themselves by a precipitous flight. No quarter was given--upwards of nine thousand men were bayoneted and cut down--and the Spanish army was totally disorganized, and placed, for every useful purpose, completely _hors de combat_.